Then he went on.

The parlour with the glass doors was lighted, and a man in a black lawyer’s dress stood up to greet him as he came in.  He was rosy-faced and genial, clean shaven, above the middle-height, and his manner was very deferential and attractive.

The first minute or two was taken up by Mr. Hardy’s congratulations on the other’s appearance, and on his complete recovery.  There was not a trace of anxiety or nervousness in his manner; and the priest almost insensibly found himself beginning to discount his friend’s warning.  Then, quite suddenly, the other turned to business.

“Well, I suppose I must come to the point.  What I want to ask is this, Monsignor.  Can you tell me in confidence (I assure you I will be discreet) whether the ecclesiastical authorities here realize the rush of Socialists that is bound to come, so soon as the Emperor’s conversion is publicly announced.”

“I——­” began the priest.

“One moment, please, Monsignor.  I do not in the least want to force any confidences.  But you know we infidels”—­(he smiled charmingly and modestly)—­“we infidels regard you as our best friends.  The State seems to know nothing of mercy.  But the Church is always reasonable.  And we poor Socialists must live somewhere.  So I wished——­”

“But my dear sir,” began Monsignor.  “I think you’re assuming too much.  Has the Emperor shown any signs—–?”

Across the other’s face he suddenly saw pass a look of complete vacancy, as if he were no longer attending; and, simultaneously, he heard a sudden sound which he could not at first identify, through the open windows looking on to Ambrosden Avenue.

“What is that?” exclaimed the lawyer sharply; and stood up.

Again from the street there rose the roar of voices, cheering, followed by a sharp punctuating cry.

“Come this way,” said the priest.  “We can see from the corridor.”

When they reached the window the whole aspect of the street had changed.  Half-way from where they stood, to the end where the sheet placard was erected, was a gathering, surging mob, increasing as they looked.  From the left, from behind the west end of the cathedral clock a continual stream poured in, met by two others, the one, down the avenue, of figures that ran and gesticulated, the other from the direction of Victoria Street.  And from the whole arose gusts of cheering, marking the pauses in the speech of some tiny figure which, mounted beside the news-sheet, appeared to be delivering a speech.

Monsignor glanced at the news-sheet, and there, in gigantic letters, over the space where the weather had been discussed just now, was the announcement made public at the very instant when the leader of the English Socialists was attempting to discover the truth of the rumour that had reached him:—­

THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY WAS RECEIVED INTO THE CATHOLIC CHURCH ON THURSDAY EVENING.